


In Medias Res

by Thotticus Rex (typhlos1on)



Series: Don't Tell the HR Department [1]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Injury, F/M, Hacking, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Spoilers, Nudity, Sonic Warfare, Spectrophobia, The Outer Worlds Quest: The Empty Man, Violence, catoptrophobia, showering, the silent treatment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typhlos1on/pseuds/Thotticus%20Rex
Summary: Vicar Maximilian DeSoto blind-sights Captain Alex Hawthorne with an egregious lie and she's not happy about it.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: Don't Tell the HR Department [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599631
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	1. Counting to 10 and Walking Away

Captain Alex Hawthorne was seething in rage. But, she had to admit that this was a sight to behold. An ex-con man, begging for mercy at the hands of a middle-aged priest, set on the outskirts of a resort town on a _mostly_ abandoned planet. This would have been wonderful aetherwave drama. Maybe if the situation was different, she’d find some enjoyment in it. But The Good Vicar Max had bitten the hand that fed him.

Captain Alex Hawthorne, herself, brought him here, under the guise that they were looking for a French scholar to translate a book. Had Vicar Max told her outright of his revenge plan, she’d gleefully go along with it. Hell, she’d hold down the poor, unfortunate bastard known as Reginald Cheney so Vicar Max could solely concentrate on maiming him.

But no. Hers was the hand that was bleeding and beginning to fester. Silently watching, she waited as The Vicar’s infamous ‘violent enthusiasm’ reached its boiling point.

“Vicar Maximilian Desoto,” she commanded; her voice firm, and angry. “You kill him, our journey together ends right fucking now. You leave him alive, I’ll take you to Scylla.” Debating his choices, The Vicar hesitated.

“Th-think this over Vicar Max,” Cheney managed to rasp, the Vicar’s Tossball stick crushing his trachea. 

“This is coming from the same woman who attacked Reed Tobson for disrespecting her crew member,” the Vicar spat, shaking from a mixture of fury and adrenaline. He pressed harder into a sputtering Cheney. Max’s contemptuousness and dishonesty had fully ignited Captain Hawthorne’s ire.

“I said _alive_ , not _unscathed_ ,” hissed The Captain. _How fucking dare he._ The fear in Cheney’s eyes grew as a sinister grin spread across The Vicar’s face. Cheney’s screams echoed in the canyon, but nobody came to his aid. 

The Vicar’s fury was unrelenting. Cheney’s face was beaten to the point of being unrecognizable, most of his teeth decorated the ground beside him, his blood a bright red smear in the dark brown clay. Each one of Cheney’s ribs were broken, some in multiple places. And just out of spite, the Vicar broke each of Cheney’s fingers on both hands. But The Vicar left him alive. After he had his way with him, he dusted himself off and cleaned his Tossball stick and hands in the stream.

“Are you done yet?” The Captain spat. The Vicar composed himself and turned to The Captain, poorly hiding her growing rage.

“I am.” They left, leaving Cheney rolling around and groaning in the dirt. Captain Hawthorne led them back to The Unreliable with an angry gait. The Vicar wasn’t stupid, he knew he upset her, but he was unaware of the extent. Never had he seen her so angry yet so restrained.

“Captain,” he treaded lightly. She ignored him and continued walking through Fallbrook, pushing her way through the crowd. “Captain Hawthorne, please,” his pleading fell on deaf ears as she continued up the stairs to the landing pad. The Unreliable’s airlock opened, she stormed inside.

“ADA, initiate Do Not Disturb mode.”

“Yes, Captain Hawthorne.”

“Captain!” The Vicar, called out, exasperated. She ascended the stairs frantically, hoping to get enough distance between her and Vicar. Luck was on her side; she stormed into her room, the door shutting tightly and quickly behind her. “ _The Spacer’s Choice Elevator Jingle [Funky Samba Edition]_ ” immediately played as the door closed in an attempt to drown out his noises. ADA must have misheard her instructions, as the music was _extremely_ disturbing.

In his last-ditch effort, he pleaded once more. “Please, Captain Hawthorne, I know you can hear me,” he slammed his fist against the door loud enough to be heard over the ‘music’. The Captain, undeterred on the other side, kicked off her boots and started unlatching her armor.

“ADA, please tell him to stop.”

“Certainly, Captain.” Patching into every speaker on the ship, ADA delivered Captain Hawthorne’s wishes at full volume. “Captain Hawthorne wishes to inform Vicar Maximilian DeSoto that he will be financially responsible for any loss of use, diminishment of value, and/or damages occurred to The Unreliable during his tenure as a passenger. Captain Hawthorne also has sole authority to revoke a crew member's tenure, at any time, for any reason, with or without warning.”

The Vicar sighed, defeated. He immediately retired to his quarters, ignoring the rest of the crew staring at him, wordlessly, from the kitchen table. He closed his door, stripped, and went to bed. There was nothing else he was capable of doing tonight. Deafening silence rang through the ship. Nyoka was the first to speak for all of them.

“What. The fuck. Just happened.”

* * *

“ADA, terminate Do Not Disturb mode.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“Never play that remix again,” Captain Hawthorne shuddered, continuing to remove her armor and weapons. She placed them on the desk next to her terminal. 

“Understood.”

“What a fucking day,” Captain Hawthorne groaned, remembering the bottle of whiskey she had in the trunk by her bed. She walked over to it and opened it, forgetting about the jumpsuit from The Hope was stashed in there as well. It was a bad idea for whiskey tonight; she’d end up strangling Max in his sleep. Instead, she pulled out her jumpsuit and sat on the edge of her bed.

The hoses were still attached to the jumpsuit. She never bothered taking them off. Softly, she traced the embroidery of _her_ name over the right pocket. It’s been… decades since she’s last heard it. Nobody she’s met has had her name.

“ADA,”

“Yes Captain?”

“Would lying for personal revenge or lying about your identity be more egregious?”

“Can you give me more detail, Captain?”

“Hypothetically, let’s say I lied to the crew about who I was and where I was from. And, hypothetically, Vicar Max lied to me about the translator for his book and had an ulterior motive to kill a man.” ADA’s ‘expression’ soured. “Hypothetically speaking, of course; because I’m Alex Hawthorne, and I have _always_ been Alex Hawthorne. And Vicars don’t lie or kill.”

Pausing, the computer calculated.

“They’re both lies, Captain," she quickly concluded.

“Even if it’s for self-preservation?”

“When I run a Boolean logic check, the variable ‘lie’ equals one and the variable ‘truth’ equals zero. Therefore, I have confirmed with a 99.99998% probability that they are both lies.”

“I see.” It was the answer she was expecting. Exhaustion finally catching up with her, she placed her suit back into the depths of her chest, and threw herself onto her bed.

“I could pump a deadly neurotoxin into his room while he sleeps, Captain.”

“That won’t be necessary _this_ time, ADA.” The Captain dimmed the lights with the knob by her bedside. “I just need to sleep on this and figure out what I need. Thank you, ADA.”

“You’re welcome, Captain. Sleep well.” Overcome by physical and mental exhaustion, the Captain drifted off to sleep quickly.


	2. Letting off Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Hawthorne takes a shower to take her mind off what happened in Fallbrook.

Groggy and a bit disoriented, Captain Hawthorne awoke from a dreamless slumber. She didn’t know what time it was, and honestly, she didn’t care. The screen of the terminal on the desk was pitch black. ADA was running her scheduled system maintenance, the closest thing to ‘sleeping’ a spaceship’s AI could do. Knowing her her favorite voyeur, ADA wouldn’t do this unless the rest of the crew was asleep, or at the very least, contained to their rooms.

Sleep was still had a strong grip on Captain Hawthorne’s mind and body. She lay motionless in her bed, heavily debating between going back to sleep or starting her day early. Her stomach growled disapprovingly. She skipped dinner last night.

“Ugh,” she whined.

 _Oh yeah, last night._ Many unwanted emotions surged through her as she remembered what had happened. Going back to sleep seemed to be the best option; she could deal with Max when everyone was awake.

_Wait._

A thought flickered through her mind: skipping dinner meant skipping her shower as well. And her being the only one awake right now meant she’d get all the hot water. 

_Hell yes._

Groaning, she outstretched her limbs, her joints snapped and cracked in approval. She slinked out of her bed and made her way to her doorway, unbothered to make herself ‘presentable’. Her bits were covered; there were towels in the bathroom. If anyone had an issue with it, they could take it up with her. But not that they would. It was her ship, after all. She opened the door and scanned the hallway.

_Everyone’s door’s closed. Perfect._

Swiftly and quietly, she headed straight for the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, her clothes fell to the ground. She undid her ponytail that kept her hair out of her face, placing it on her wrist. A matted, unruly mess of lilac fell to her shoulders.

The pipes shrieked and squealed as she turned the shower’s knobs. She sharply inhaled when the first blast of cold water hit her skin, the temperature changes unwanted and unwelcome. The pipes knocked and hummed in tandem with The Captain’s gasps. It didn’t take long for the water’s temperature to grow to a comfortable level. The bathroom quickly filled with steam.

“Mmm,” Captain Hawthorne sang approvingly, letting her muscles relax. She began to massage the tiniest amount of Spacer’s Choice™ 6-in-1 Body, Ship, Dish, Hair, Laundry, and Canid Wash on her. Her mind drifted to the Ad-Bots on The Groundbreaker. “ _The Tingle™ Means It’s Working!”_

She always used overt caution when applying this stuff, hearing and seeing horror stories of 4th degree chemical burns. It didn’t irritate the skin on her body too badly; she undeniably felt its _Tingle™_ while it dissolved away the top layer of her skin and whatever was attached to it. 

It never occurred to her to read the ingredients on the bottle. 

“Active and Inactive Ingredients are Proprietary Rights of Spacers Choice, LLC, Under Chapters 9 through 99 of The Halcyon Charter.” What followed was a six-paragraph warning label, all in fine print, entirely too small for her to read. A heavy sigh escaped her.

_Why did I expect anything different?_

Turning around, she let the water cascade down her back. She leaned her head back and tightly closed her eyes as she massaged it into her hair. There was a definite _sting_ as it made contact with her scalp. It definitely _wasn’t_ the best choice, but it got the dried Rapt spit out of her hair. 

_It’s Spacer’s Choice, etcetera, etcetera._

It was entirely too harsh to use on the sensitive parts of her body, including her face. She feared the day it would get in her eyes, or worse. Her gut clenched at the thought. She turned off the water when the burning subsided and made her way over to the sink.

Opening the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, she scanned what was on the shelves. This is where the majority of the crew kept their toiletries; as storage space in their quarters was a bit of a commodity. She knew Vicar Max kept his items in his room. She grumbled at the thought of him.

The lid to the brand-new jar of Metallisys was missing. There was a three-finger shaped crater left in the jar, half of the contents already gone, what was remaining had already begun to dry. The Captain had her suspicions. 

“Felix,” she mused, making a mental note to tease him about it later.

She grabbed her toothbrush, her toothpaste, the jar of Energizing Ointment, and the bottle of Hardineram Elixir that had her name angrily scrawled on every surface of the bottle before closing the cabinet. 

The mirror above the sink was covered in fog, she wiped it away with her forearm. She barely recognized the woman staring at her, but she knew, despite everything, that it was her. Remembering all other times she had done this in her past life, she stared into the mirror. The memory of who she used to be materialized beside her reflection.

It happened again. Her Other Self, Her Past Self, The Name She Can’t Bring Herself to Say, _Not Alex,_ looked at her with complete and utter disdain.

“I guess now that you’ve been baptized by rapt spit and marauder blood, you’re not gonna stop being _Captain Alex Hawthorne,”_ Not Alex sneered. The Captain, undeterred, pumped a few squirts of Hardineram onto her hands and rubbed them together.

“Nope.”

Cryostasis didn’t leave her unscathed; mentally or physically. She hadn’t discussed it with anyone; there was no one she could discuss it with. She figured it was cell damage from being frozen for so long, or it was some unintended reaction from the chemicals Dr. Welles had pumped into her. Most likely, it was a combination of the two. But the Captain knew it was a hallucination, and Not Alex only seemed to appear when she saw herself in a mirror. Maybe it was her conscious.

“Catoptrophobia,” Not Alex laughed. “Who would have fuckin thought?”

“Not me,” The Captain grinned, combing her fingers through her hair, untangling and conditioning her matted silvery-lilac curls. “But you know that.”

“I do,” Not Alex laughed.

“I think the curls suit you better,” Not Alex said, wistfully playing with her flat, blonde hair. “You think the color change is permanent?”

“I dunno,” The Captain mumbled, squeezing a small bead of Rizzo’s New Purpleberry™ Toothpaste onto her toothbrush. “I like it though,” her toothbrush was impeding her speech as began to brush her teeth. “Kinda hope it is.”

She spit. Not Alex shrugged. “Well, I’m glad my skin doesn’t look as ghastly as yours.”

The Captain looked bleached compared to her old self. Much of her color was lost. She always had a fair complexion, but her skin used to golden and radiant. Now, her skin’s tone was a pale peach, flecked with muted pink splotches that decorated her from the neck down. Her face wasn’t spared, its extremities; her ears, nose, and cheeks, always had a slight flush to them. Captain Hawthorne said nothing, spitting once more. “So, you agree with me?”

Ignoring her, she spit again, and tried to rinse out the taste of from her mouth as quickly as possible. The taste of Purpleberry™ Toothpaste wasn’t too bad, it was the _aftertaste_ she couldn't stand. Captain Hawthorne’s face contorted into a grimace. _Not fast enough_. Out of desperation, she drank from the faucet. Not Alex laughed coldly, her deep emerald eyes glittered.

After the Captain rinsed her toothbrush under the sink, she unscrewed the jar of Auntie Cleo’s Energizing Ointment and applied a thick layer under her eyes. While it may not be its intended use, it works wonders for dark circles and puffiness.

“Shame you don’t have Mom’s eyes anymore,” Not Alex lamented.

“Yeah,” Captain Hawthorne wistfully agreed.

But by far the most unnerving transformation was her eye color. The Captain remembered scaring poor Parvati senseless after the first time she looked into a mirror in the Edgewater cannery. Parvati had to reassure her that her eyes had always been “that beautiful shade of amethyst.” When Captain Hawthorne realized she wasn’t having a stroke, she knew that this change would be permanent.

“You know, the Vicar’s beating himself up or beating himself off over what he did to you.”

The Captain smiled. “Maybe both.”

“How long are you gonna play your little mind games?”

“Till one of us breaks.”

“My bet’s on you.”

The Captain swung the cabinet door open, putting everything back where it belonged.

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” she said, wrapping a towel around her body and picking up her skivvies. Captain Hawthorne opened the door, letting all the steam escape. Hesitating before leaving.

“You know, they’ll all leave as soon as they find out the truth about you,” Not Alex hissed.

Ignoring her, Captain Hawthorne made her way into the kitchen to grab something to eat. As she was bent down in the fridge, preoccupied, Vicar Max emerged from his room with his basket of toiletries. Finding a mock apple, she stood up closed the fridge and made her way back to her room.

Neither one of them expected to see each other in the hallway.

Pausing, Vicar Max swallowed nervously. They finally made tense eye contact. The Captain said nothing as she bit into her mock apple, continuing on her way back to her room, leaving a trail of wet footsteps behind her.

Vicar Max exhaled, knowing she needed to be the one to talk to him. He followed Captain Hawthorne’s footsteps back to the bathroom. The door closed. There was a serene silence; everything was still and quiet until the hallway echoed with The Vicar's howls of displeasure. The Vicar had taken what may have been the coldest shower he had ever taken in his life, but nothing could compare to the glare Captain Hawthorne had just shot him.

“Architect, help me,” he sighed, shivering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Captain's flawed in many ways.
> 
> I had fun writing this one.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. In The Hot Seat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the crew grills Vicar Max as soon as Captain Hawthorne is off the ship.

Captain Hawthorne kept up her petty charade during breakfast. Her anger was tangible; it made everyone uneasy. 

“How’d it go with the translator? You learn any French?” Ellie prodded, gleefully. _Almost everyone._ The Captain responded by pursing her lips and melodramatically stabbing her rapt steak. The Vicar pretended to be too absorbed in his reading to hear her. “I’ll take that as a _le no_.”

“So uh, what are the plans today, Cap?” Parvati tread, trying to ease some of the awkward tension at the table.

“I’m gonna go fix that relay for Edna and then we’ll head back to Groundbreaker.”

“You want any help?” Parvati warmly, but gingerly offered.

“Nope,” The Captain replied; the ‘p’, sharp and angry.

“Y-you sure?” 

“Yep. Y’all stay put, shouldn't take too long.” 

Captain Hawthorne, eager to start her day, shoveled half of her steak into her mouth. “But I do have things I need y’all to do when I’m out,” she managed to say before she swallowed. “ADA,” 

“Yes Captain?”

“After you’re done with SAM, have him sanitize all the bed linens and towels.”

“Understood.”

“Felix, you’re on dish duty. Ellie, medical supply and food inventory. Nyoka; weapons and ammo inventory. Parvati, engine maintenance, get with ADA if need be."

“Aye, Cap,” most of the crew said in unison.

“Hey, what about Vic?” Felix asked. Unphased, the Captain swallowed the rest of her steak. She said nothing and left the galley, leaving her empty plate on the table. Nyoka landed a hard punch on Felix’s as soon as The Captain’s back was turned. “Ow!” he yelped. The Captain fought the smile curling on her lips.

_Oh, Felix._

With everyone’s attention briefly occupied, The Vicar quickly followed Captain Hawthorne’s lead and left the table. He shunned himself to his room before his crew mates could stop him. The remaining four huddled together as soon as they thought it was safe to. With hushed whispers, they exchanged their theories amongst each other and devised a plan.

The Captain donned her armor and weapons quickly. She needed some quality time to herself. In her semi-professional opinion, there wasn’t anything more quality than smashing something beyond recognition. Seeing the Prismatic Hammer leaning in the corner, she gleefully grinned. 

She descended to the control room with the same excited fervor, barely containing her excitement as she put in the coordinates to the navigation system.

“You’re sure you don’t want some help, or just, you know, someone there to talk to?” Parvati asked as The Captain reached the airlock. “Ya know, moral support-y like.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the Captain reassured her, grinning while she brandished her Prismatic Hammer. “Been waitin’ to use this.” Parvati groaned, worriedly, for good reason. She had witnessed firsthand the unhinged rage Captain Hawthorne harbored within her. The noises Tobson’s skull and bones made still haunted Parvati’s nightmares.

Captain Hawthorne cradled Parvati’s cheek in an attempt to soothe her nerves. Looking directly into her eyes, the Captain had Parvati’s undivided attention. A master of persuasion, she quickly calmed The Mechanic down. “I’ll be fine. Promise.” 

“He really upset you, didn’t he," Parvati asked quietly.

 _Yes._ Instead of answering her, the Captain sharply inhaled through her nose. _But I'm guilty of worse._ The airlock screeched open. She turned to leave, catching a glimpse of Felix watching them intently, rubbing his arm, poorly hidden by the workbench. 

“Be back soon.” she sang, descending the stairs. The pneumatic locks hissed shut when she stepped on the station's floor.

“She’s gone!” Felix bellowed from the other side. The Captain could only shake her head and smile.

“I hope you never change, Felix,” she laughed as she walked to the station’s entrance.

* * *

The walls and doors onboard The Unreliable were thin and hollow. Sounds and vibrations traveled extremely easily between the rooms and hallways. Some noises seemed to be amplified: steps ricocheted like shotgun reports. Anything above a whisper reverberated through the walls. 

The Vicar knew it was only a matter of minutes before the crew would convene at his door. “Discreet” has never been in Felix’s vocabulary. A powerful wave of secondhand embarrassment rushed through The Vicar, remembering the “come to The Architect meeting” about Felix’s volume at night. 

The Vicar locked himself in, anticipating their arrival. He sat at his desk, waiting. He cradled his face in his hands, dreading the inevitable. 

“You’re a fucking master of subtlety, Millstone.” Nyoka remarked.

“Ssh, Max’ll hear you,” Felix warned. 

“You’re right, we can’t have Vicky know we’re here,” Ellie said as she banged her fist on the door. “Ey, Vicky, open up,”

“Go away,” The Vicar grumbled.

“Mr. Vicar, sir, we just wanna talk,” Parvati attempted.

“I might do more than just talking,” Nyoka admitted. Ellie and Felix nodded in agreement.

“Go away,” The Vicar repeated, rubbing his temples. 

Ellie sighed. “Well I’m certainly not payin’ for a replacement door,” she said, remembering ADA’s announcement yesterday. “Hey ADA. Open the door.”

“Only Captain Hawthorne has the authority to override a crew member’s door lock.”

“Damn,” Ellie frowned. “Let’s see…”

SAM sauntered behind them after gathering the bedsheets from Nyoka’s room. The four of them moved out of SAM’s way, hoping he may be able to gain access. SAM whirred unhappily as the door refused to open.

“Unit is unable to complete scheduled sanitization service due to the following reason: LOCKED DOOR.”

Ellie smirked; she had a plan.

“ADA, the Captain gave SAM an order and you won’t open the door. You wouldn’t want to be complicit in his insubordination, now, would you?”

The Vicar had forgotten about SAM. Max cursed under his breath. The locking mechanism inside the door clicked loudly. All of the crew lunged past SAM as soon as the door opened. Max knew he was cornered; they formed a blockade in what little room there was. Sam whirred in anger.

“Unit is unable to complete scheduled sanitization service due to the following reason: PATH OBSTRUCTED. Unit REQUESTS OBSTRUCTIONS BE CLEARED.”

“L-let me just get your sheets for SAM, so you know, uh, he doesn’t break anything of yours.” She squeezed between Ellie and Nyoka, both cracking their knuckles. “We don’t want Cap gettin’ any madder than she already is.”

“Thank you, Ms. Holcomb,” The Vicar sighed.

“What’d you do to Cap?” Felix asked. “I ain’t never seen her act like this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Max muttered.

“Too late for that, preacher man,” Nyoka scoffed.

“I, uh, I…” he was trying to piece together his thoughts without divulging the specifics. “I lied to her,” he finally admitted. Parvati frowned; the other three were still unimpressed with his answer.

“About what,” demanded Nyoka. The Vicar caved.

“Reginald Cheney wasn’t a scholar,” he sighed. “He was a prisoner I had met in Tartarus. He initially told me about Bakonu’s journal.” Max’s stomach churned. “I lied to Captain Hawthorne to take me to him so I could get my revenge.” He turned pensive when he saw four angry scowls glaring at him. “I regret everything.”

“You know, all you had to do was tell her that from the get-go,” Felix said, breaking the silence. “She probably would’ve lent you something to beat him with.”

“I know, Felix,” The Vicar muttered.

“So, what’re you gonna do to fix it?” Ellie asked.

“Apologize and do whatever I can to make this up to her. But I’m giving her needed space right now.”

The crew accepted this answer and left The Vicar to his studies. Ellie lingered in the doorway when the others had gone to start their assignments from Captain Hawthorne.

“You fucked up, Vicky.” Her voice was dry.

“I am well aware, Dr. Fenhill.”

The door closed, leaving Vicar Max alone with his thoughts for the rest of the day. His heart ache thinking of how he had hurt someone he had the utmost respect for. He knew as soon as they docked at Groundbreaker he was going to need a stiff drink. Until then, he tried his best to decipher Bakonu’s journal as best he could.

“Fout la merde,” he muttered under his breath. He really fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work's been insane for me lately. ;~; I swear the porn's comin' very, very, VERY soon, y'all.


	4. A toast to absent friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max drowns his sorrows at the Lost Hope and discovers something about Captain Hawthorne.

The Unreliable docked on Groundbreaker shortly afterwards. The Vicar waited for the rest of the crew to leave before sneaking away. His conscious was heavy, his mind was set on The Lost Hope.

The atmosphere was noticeably different from its usual buzz. Vera Krivenek was absent. In her place was an unfamiliar bartender, glum, polishing glassware. There was only one patron, a silently sobbing Sublight employee, slumped over the bar. Vicar Max relaxed a bit, thankful that everyone else seemed to be just as miserable as he was.

The Vicar left a vacant seat between him and the SubLight employee.

“It’s not too often I see an actual Vicar at the bar,” The bartender sighed. “What brings you in?”

“I’m in need of some spiritual counseling,” Max said. The pun wasn’t lost on the bartender; a needed, genuine smile grew on his face.

“Well in that case, first round’s on the house. From one spiritual counselor to another,”

Max shot the bartender a half-cocked smirk. 

“Iceberg, please. Neat.”

The bartender happily complied.

“I apologize. We’re not the best company right now. Just got some real bad news.” The Bartender’s heavy-handed pour made up for the gloomy atmosphere. “Our friend’s been missin’ for months now. We’ve been prayin’ they’d find him alive, but they just found his body,”

The SubLight employee sniffled, wiping away a falling tear on his cheek.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” The Vicar consoled.

“They found him under an escape pod,” the man lamented. “They just left him there to rot! They took his ship!”

“At least his death was quick and painless,” The Vicar added, trying to help him find some glimmer of a silver lining.

“What’s eating you?” the man said in an attempt to change the subject.

The Vicar paused, trying to word his thoughts in a way that didn’t make him sound like a  _ total  _ monster.

“I may have irreversibly destroyed a friendship with a very foolish and irrational decision.”

“May have. There’s still hope.” the bartender added, knowing not to press for details.

“You gotta go fix it man, I mean sir. You never know when’ll be your last day,” the man sighed.

As Max quickly downed his something-between-a-double-and-a-triple, the bartender poured three separate shots. They were distributed between the trio before The Vicar put down his empty glass.

Clearing his throat, The Bartender raised his drink. The Vicar and the SubLight employee did the same.

“To good friends.” The men nodded in agreement, clinked their glasses together, and drank in unison.

“To Captain Alex Hawthorne, may he rest in peace,” the bartender sighed, slamming his empty shot glass on the bar.

The Vicar choked, the whiskey stinging his throat.

“And to the bastard who stole his ship, I hope ADA throws them out of the airlock,” the SubLight employee added after he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The Vicar coughed violently; but somehow managed to drink his shot.

“You okay, sir?” Rage boiled inside Max. The Vicar fumbled in his pockets for a bit cartridge, shaking slightly from restraining his fury. 

“Yes, yes. Sorry. I’ve just been… spiritually enlightened,” he hissed. “His next round’s on me. The rest is for you. Thank you, both.” The excessive tip of three hundred bits was rightfully earned.

“Law have mercy on me, I’m going to fucking fix this,” he gritted through his teeth, devising his revenge as he hurried back onto The Unreliable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, then porn. Apologies this has taken so long; I am stupidly busy with work, even now.


	5. Comeuppance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicar Max and Captain Hawthorne finally talk to each other.

Two days had passed since Max’s revelation, two days’ worth of plotting and planning took place behind his door. However, outside the safety of his room, he managed to conceal his fury by masquerading as an ideal Vicar. It took every ounce of concentration to keep the charade up, but he was succeeding. Nobody suspected a thing; even during breakfast briefing.

“What’s the plan for today, Cap?” Felix munched through a mouthful of Purpleberry™ Crunch.

“Inventory,” she said.

“Ugh,” whined Ellie.

“I know. I’ve got upstairs with SAM, y’all’ve got downstairs.”

“Aye Cap,” the crew said in unison.

Max could not believe the hand he was dealt just now. He didn’t expect his opportunity to come so quickly; being alone with the rest of the crew was step one.

“Four hundred and twelve rounds of heavy ammo,” Nyoka yelled to Max, who diligently recorded it into a datapad.

“Please, just give me an hour,” The Vicar whispered. “One hour.” Ellie and Nyoka exchanged nonplussed glances and continued with inventory.

_Step two, get all of them off the ship._

“Three Tossball blockers, all in bad shape,” Felix yelled. “Why do we have to leave? Can’t you just go talk to her right now?” Felix asked in a hushed tone, gesturing towards the ladder. Max shook his head.

“One full set of elite troop armor, pristine condition,” Parvati shouted. She cleared her throat. “I think Vic may be right with the one-on-one thing. He upset Cap somethin' fierce and she’s not really… up-front like with her emotions,” Parvati whispered, covering her mouth as if Captain Hawthorne was in the same room. “Along with a beanie and one of those Moonman Helmets,” she added, extra loudly, for posterity’s sake.

“So... what do you plan on doing, again?” Nyoka contemplated, not bothering to whisper. As soon as Max opened his mouth, she shouted, “One hundred twenty rounds of light ammo!” The Vicar rolled his eyes.

“Apologizing for what I did and making an offer to fix this. I feel like having everyone else around would make it seem like a disingenuous plot to save face,” Max explained.

“I dunno,” Ellie mused, analyzing the outcomes. “I’d love to see you begging for her forgiveness.” “One jackass, I mean, one Iconoclast Revolver.” The Vicar groaned, knowing what he had to do.

“Next time we dock your tab’s on me,” he grumbled. Bribery never fails. Ellie immediately perked up, as did Nyoka.

“That go for everyone?” Nyoka stopped, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Max sighed. His pockets preemptively ached.

“Deal.” Ellie grinned. “Twelve bypass shunts and nine mag-picks,” she yelled. The Vicar silently glared, resisting the urge to passive-aggressively punch the numbers in.

“Aye Cap, we’re almost done, what next?” Felix bellowed.

“We’ll be docking at Stellar Bay!” Captain Hawthorne yelled back. “Bring it up when you’re done!”

The crew finished shortly afterwards, mostly fueled by the promise of free-to-them booze. Max gave the datapad to Parvati to deliver to The Captain, knowing she was the least likely to say anything to The Captain. Dispersing quickly; everyone except Vicar Max went upstairs. He watched the airlock from the corner of his eye as he pretended to fix his shotgun at the workbench.

The Captain descended the staircase and headed inside the bridge, setting the landing coordinates. She pretended not to see Vicar Max, as he expected. 

Parvati convinced Captain Hawthorne to let her take SAM on a walk around Stellar Bay as she handed over inventory. The two of them were the first to leave. Impressed by Parvati’s quick thinking to get rid of SAM for him, he made a mental note to buy her a gift later.

Ellie, Nyoka, and Felix sauntered downstairs, pausing at the entrance of the airlock. Ellie extended her hand, signaling for the Vicar to pay up.

“Three thousand bits,” Max muttered, begrudgingly holding up his end of the deal.

“You’re a man of upstanding moral character, Vicky. You should be like... a priest or something,” Ellie said, slapping his shoulder.

“One hour.” Max pressed.

“One hour,” Nyoka repeated. The trio descended onto the landing pad, poorly concealing their giddiness.

As soon as the airlock secured, a devious smile spread across his face. It was only ‘Hawthorne’ and him onboard. _Things couldn’t have gone more smoothly._ Withdrawing a keycard from his pocket, he strolled onto the bridge.

“Vicar Maximillian DeSoto, an unexpected visit. How may I assist you?” ADA sang.

He inserted the card into a drive. Lights flashed in panic; fans whirred anger. ADA’s expression changed to “fearful” before changing to a black terminal.

“By shutting the fuck up,” he coldly answered.

A relic from his days in Tartarus, he’s never encountered any computer it hasn’t worked on. He went to work toying with The Unreliable’s settings. By temporarily disabling ADA, he was in total and complete control. “Captain Alex Hawthorne” was exactly where he wanted her.

 _Step three, corner her_.

He was going to get the truth and an apology from her mouth in fifty-seven minutes or less, so help The Architect, Law have mercy.

* * *

Captain Hawthorne, oblivious to what was transpiring, was completely engrossed in the ships’ inventory. Spreadsheets and datapads decorated the kitchen table. She didn’t hear Vicar Max walk up beside her as she was muttering numbers to herself.

Vicar Max savored this moment, briefly. Wanting to get this over with, he threw her jumpsuit down on the table, worldless.

The Captain’s blood turned to ice as _her_ name stared at her, but she managed to keep an impressive poker face.

_Step four, confrontation._

“ADA,” she called out, surprising herself that her voice didn’t falter. Captain Hawthorne refused to turn her head and look at Vicar Max directly.

“ADA is currently undergoing regularly scheduled system maintenance, please direct all inquiries to Captain Alex Hawthorne.” The Captain’s fists clenched.

“What the fuck did you do to my ship? _”_ she hissed, getting up from her chair. Their eyes locked, both of their glares filled with malice.

“This isn’t your ship.” He coldly, yet calmly, interjected.

“The _fuck_ it isn’t,” she challenged. 

“And your name’s not Alex Hawthorne _.”_

“You’re right, it’s _Captain_ Alex Hawthorne.”

“ _Captain_ Alex Hawthorne is dead, his corpse discovered on Edgewater.” His nostrils flared. “Who are you,” he demanded, sharply.

A smirk slowly spread on her face. _He didn’t know._ Out of a volatile mixture of rage, fear, and smugness, her smirk grew.

She was still safe. Max hadn’t figured out who she was. Or once was. The upper hand was hers.

“You don’t get it. I’m Alex Hawthorne, Captain of the Unreliable” she jovially repeated, sparking his ire. The veins in his temples bulged.

“I will fucking-” 

A slow, derisive cackle escaped her. It made Max snarl, bearing his teeth. He wanted to say something. She tapped the tip of his nose with her right index finger as to figuratively and literally push his buttons.

“You’re not asking the right question, Vicky,” she sang in a saccharine-sweet, patronizing tone. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it painfully tightly. Her smirk grew to a shit-eating grin as she ignored the worsening tension on her hand.

“Set up the checkerboard,” she commanded.

“And why would I do that?” Max growled. Breaking free of his grip, she picked up her jumpsuit and started to walk towards her room.

“Because The Unreliable is mine, whether you believe it or not.” She turned to face Max. “And I ain’t telling you _shit_ until you do as I say.” As his expression soured, she cackled. Fuming, The Vicar obeyed, going so far as to neatly gather the inventory and set it aside.

While this may have been an unplanned variable, he was going to get what he wanted, in fifty-two minutes and counting.

* * *

As soon as she made it out of Vicar Max’s line of sight, she crumpled in fear. It almost overtook her; she tried to stop herself from hyperventilating by fixating on a single thought:

_I refuse to let him win._

She managed to make it to her quarters without much issue, but the adrenaline was getting the better of her. Her hands shook, her heart raced.

_I refuse to let him win._

A familiar figure flickered in the black screen of the terminal. “Called it,” Not Alex laughed.

“Shut up,” Captain Hawthorne snapped. She fumbled with the zipper on the inside of the jumpsuit, fearing the worst. Overwhelming relief washed over her as she felt her passport. She tucked it into her back pocket, the same one where she kept her current Halcyon ID.

“You’ll be crucified by him. As soon as he finds out the truth, you’ll be back to being-“

“Shut. Up.” Captain Hawthorne spat, throwing the jumpsuit over the terminal before heading back to the galley. Her prismatic hammer leaned against the corner of her door frame. She hurried past it, ignoring all of her instincts to grab it. With every step she made towards the galley, she silently prayed to every deity she could remember that she wouldn’t need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter I said one more than porn, but the buildup to get to this point was too long for one chapter. I'm almost done with chapter 7; I just think this is the best stopping place. 
> 
> This specific part has been holding me up for all this time, and I'm really excited for the next two chapters. I hope y'all are too??

**Author's Note:**

> Hey it's ya gal, uhhh, back from the dead. "Don't Tell the HR Department" is a working title, lmao.  
> I'll let you read my outline if you correctly guess the two AI I had ADA reference. ;)
> 
> Part 1 is going to be the only teen rated chapter.
> 
> Also, I'm new to the writing-for-fun thing. So if you see any flagrant errors, leave a disparaging comment.
> 
> Also also, I need people to talk about TOW with, follow/DM me on twitter @thotticus_rex !


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